Editor At Large Nina Braca Layout Editor Lucia Urbanic Managing Editor Bruce Hamilton Writers Abby Adams Yarra Berger Karissa Francis RJP Illustrators Yarra Berger Genie Ilmenev Sacred Eternal Owl Cover Gussie Antell
Horoscopes The killer, obviously.
SCORPIO 10/23-11/21 You’re the dreamer who doesn’t know where you’re going in life. Right before this party, this trip-up-to-a-sweet-cabin-in-the-middle-of-the-woods, one of your parents (aka your dad in a suit) told you to “get your life together” and threw some papers in your face - the loosely strung together “but I don’t WANT to be a lawyer!” plotline. Nobody really cares, though. Oh, and you’re the first to die. SAGGITTARIUS 11/22-12/21 The brain behind the murders, you work alongside Scorpio in constructing the entire plan from start to finish. Insurance money? A long lost fortune? Cold and brutal revenge? Whatever it is, you’re ambitious and you know how to get it. You almost get away with it, too, right up until your good friend finds you out. CAPRICORN 12/22-1/19 You’re the smart (but not smart enough) radicalist that thinks the Illuminati is real and won’t shut up on Facebook about it. When strange things start happening, you suddenly claim to have expertise on mythical folklore and spirits of the occult, but clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Unsurprisingly, you are one of the first to go. AQUARIUS 1/20-2/18 You’re the “Hey, everybody likes me” guy at the party or cabin that’s typically attractive and usually played by an American Eagle model. Your girlfriend brought you but you’ve also been flirting with Monica all night. You’re one of the first to die, but not before shouting something corny and faux heroic like “Guys! Don’t worry. I got us, alright?” PISCES 2/19-3/20 A good friend of Capricorn. In love with Taurus. The last to survive.
ARIES 3/21-4/19
You’re the bland protagonist we’ve all been looking for. Secure and steady, you fit your bland personality into the equally bland role of bland partner to Aries. Though we don’t really care, it looks like you’re going to make it out alive - right up until you die. Though you’re the last one, the audience just sort of nods as if to say, “Yeah, we knew this was coming. They were never going to open that coffee shop in California.” TAURUS 4/20-5/20 We see you for a minute before everything *goes down* but then you disappear. The audience never actually sees you die, but it’s sort of assumed that it happens at some point.
GEMINI 5/21-6/20 Our only hope of any sort of dreamboat in this film, you’re the sensitive best friend of Aries who everyone knows is The One They Should Really Be With. In a brutal twist, you tragically die in front of them.
CANCER 6/21-7/22 The jerk. Unfortunately for you, you’re the giant asshole that nobody likes. You are predictably killed first in an obvious comical manner which makes the audience laugh, while no doubt thinking about all the other assholes in their lives.
LEO 7/23-8/22 (Conventional society’s sexist and one-dimensional view of) the party girl’s best friend. Dies before the party girl.
VIRGO 8/23-9/22 (Conventional society’s sexist and one-dimensional view of) the party girl. One of the first to die.
LIBRA 9/23-10/23
Four Word Horror Stories KARISSA FRANCIS I forgot to moisturize Is Sierra Mist okay? Take out your essays You’re out of meals Are you two dating? I’m not racist, but Let’s go to D-hall I found your Twitter Your zipper is down SUNY Purchase Open Forum We’re peer editing today Party at the Neu! Room inspections next week Look, it’s your ex Sober at the stood
NICH’S HALLOWEENING PLAYLIST EXPERIENCE # NICH LISTS NICH FARRELL
• Anything Can Happen On Halloween - Tim Curry • Send It Up - Kanye West • Slippery Slope (yayazozo remix) - The Dø • Evil Eye - Franz Ferdinand • Devils - Say Hi • The Twist - Metric • Stifling - Animalia • In The Room Where You Sleep - Dead Man’s Bones • Disco Fever - Goat • Slow Jam 1 - King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard • Grilled Cheese - Cherry Glazerr • Goo Goo Muck - The Cramps • Feeling Without Touching - G/L/A/S/S/C/A/N/D/Y • Anthonio (Berlin Breakdown Version) - Annie • Song Of The Imaginary Beings • The Hardest Button To Button (White Stripes Cover) kickedoutofsundayschool • Waste Of A Day - Cold Sweats • Mask - Chromatics • Dead Or Alive - Jazz Cartier • Pull Back The Bolt - Minimal Man
SOUND BITES ABBY ADAMS Mini Pumpkin PhylloTarts (In Honor Of Pumpkin Spice Season) Ingredients: - 10 pre-baked phyllo cups - 1 cup pumpkin puree - 1/4 cup unsweetened coconut milk - 1/4 cup brown sugar - 1 pinch salt - 1/2 tsp. cinnamon - 1/4 tsp. nutmeg - 1/4 tsp. ground ginger Pre-heat oven to 375 degrees. Place phyllo cups on a parchment lined baking sheet. Mix pumpkin puree, coconut milk, brown sugar, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ground ginger together in a bowl. Fill phyllo cups with the filling. Bake for 13 minutes, or until the filling has set and the phyllo cups have crisped. Fall Songs: “C’mon Please” – Beau This track off of Beau’s debut EP is driving while still dreamy. It spirals and floats in a way that suggests disassociation from reality. When I’m super busy, I sometimes feel like I’m floating above the rest of my life. “New Americana” – Halsey Halsey’s new image reflects what most girls do during pumpkin spice season at college: try to stay on top of work while looking hip and staying warm. “Reforget” – Lauv This jam simultaneously makes me want to snuggle up indoors with a pumpkin spice latte and party until 4 A.M.
UNTITLED RJP (dedicated to my dear friend christopher elmer) dopesick love songs spill out of the windows a fresh-faced 22 years, with hands like cannonfire /// thus ends the saga a beautiful creature extinguished burnt out too quickly, far too quickly with an intensity matched only by those powerful hands /// the better part of my summer was spent in and on top of your apartment. during the day we would play music and at night we would get drunk. i slept in a hammock on your roof every night, the gentle roar of the M and L lulling me to slumber. you and i, the rhythm section, that crucial vertebrae, rained fire upon all within earshot. /// i will miss you forever and ever /// goodnight to a friend goodnight to a musician goodnight /// dopesick love songs spill out of the windows no more
GUSSIE ANTELL
YARRA BERGER
W.G.O.A.T. (WORST GIG OF ALL TIME) BRUCE HAMILTON The worst show I ever played was at a pizza place on the Fourth of July five years ago. My dad told us that the owner, a gruff but well-meaning ex-Marine, was looking for bands to play inside the restaurant before the start of the fireworks show at a nearby park. That day, I rode my bike to the pizza place and asked the owner if my “rock and roll” band could play, and he said “Yes” with no hesitation (this leads me to believe that he had not yet heard our demo entitled “Kill, Fuck, Destroy”). He told us we would be paid in pizza and soda, which was fine by us. We showed up at 7 p.m. sharp, and to our surprise, the place was packed. Each booth was filled with hordes of families and stoned teenagers eagerly awaiting the limited-time-only Red, White, and Blue Pizza. In addition to the large number of restaurant-goers, we were lucky enough to have a small, recently-built stage and an opening act (a girl in our grade with an affinity for Alanis Morrisette covers). Only a few people seemed interested in her music, which should have been interpreted as a bad omen for our act. She finished her set to the sound of a few people clapping and left with her mother to get a good seat at the park. We set up our equipment on the makeshift stage, placed in between the utensil counter and a booth, occupied by nobody. I grabbed the mic: “Hey, we’re (band name) and we’re gonna play some songs for you.” A man sitting near us sighed. I began playing the guitar intro. It was at this moment that the drummer (who had been drinking rum out of a Pepsi cup for two hours beforehand) took his sweatshirt off, exposing his white t-shirt that said, in Sharpie, “BURN THE FLAG” (our bassist said afterwards that the audience gasped collectively at that moment). I, blissfully unaware of my bandmate’s costume change, kept playing, and the rest of the band joined in seconds later. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the owner take his bandana off his head and place it delicately onto the counter. He briskly approached the side of the stage, and, without a word, punched our drummer in the face as if he was invoking the spirit of Joe Frazier himself. The first noise after the thwap of the owner’s fist colliding with my friend’s face was the thud of my friend’s head hitting the table in the booth next to the stage, followed by the sound of his drumsticks hitting the ground. Most patrons of the pizza place began cheering or screaming in disbelief. “WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE!” our bassist screamed at the owner, “YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING JAIL ONCE THE COPS GET HERE!” “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY RESTAURANT!” the owner shot back. He spit a little. He meant business. The chaos intensified with the addition of the fucking fireworks show that covered the sky in streams of red, white, and blue. Patrons didn’t know whether to look at
the screaming match that was underway in the front of the pizza place or the fireworks show that was visible through the back windows. I was in the middle of yelling “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU” when I noticed a cop car rolling into the parking lot. This is when everybody that remained inside the restaurant left with whatever remaining food they had stuffed between paper plates (it wasn’t the right time to ask for a take-out box). Our bassist had pills on him, and we were fifteen years old, so we chose to get the fuck out of the restaurant, leaving our unconscious drummer laying next to the guy who just knocked him out. The cops probably figured out what happened fairly quickly - live music, an offensive shirt, a sucker punch, people screaming, the whole nine yards. Nothing came of it, either. I don’t think the owner was reprimanded at all. I still don’t know how our drummer got home. We didn’t press charges. Instead, we drove to the restaurant the next day to pick up our gear in my brother’s Astro Van. The owner was out of town, so it wasn’t too awkward. I’m assuming my parents heard about it through the grapevine, but they’ve never said anything about it. I’m proud that nobody bothered to write a story about it, for it now has a permanent place within the lore of the town and I’ve got something to mention when people talk about shitty gigs.
SACRED ETERNAL OWL